


Any Time Part 2

by rubyluvsupernatural



Series: Any Time [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angsty Dean, Canon-Typical Violence, Claustrophobia, Curses, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Ghosts, Hiding Medical Issues, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kissing, Magical Pregnancy, Mating, Mating Bond, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Salt And Burn, Sex Curse, Smut, Supernatural Elements, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Witches, angsty dean winchester, angsty reader, hiding pregnancy, its gonna get worse, supernatural pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyluvsupernatural/pseuds/rubyluvsupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader hasn't seen the WInchesters in 4 months.  Last time she saw them she helped "cure" the curse on Dean.  Now, theres a consequence and Dean is just finding out.</p><p>Running into each other on a salt and burn case, reader has to finally tell Dean.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Time Part 2

You open the cache in your trunk, reaching for the shotgun and rock salt shells. You had hoped that this would be more of a salt and burn than anything, but so far you haven’t turned up any information on who the ghost is. No body means no salt and burn.

You slam your trunk shut, and turn towards the house. The large stone staircase leading to the front door is crumbling from age. You start climbing the stairs, your flashlight beam ahead of you.

The porch is ominously covered in cob webs. Pushing them away with the barrel of your gun, you move to the front door. You reach out to grasp the door knob but before you can touch it, the door swings open.

 _Great,_ you think. _A ghost with a penchant for dramatics._

You check your shot gun, making sure it's ready. Aiming ahead of you, you pad softly into the house. You hear shuffling in the room to your right and stiffen. Moving as quietly as possible, you slide your back against the wall and turn into the room. The sound of a gun cocking greets you. 

“Y/N?” a familiar voice asks. “What are you doing here?”

Your eyes are still adjusting to the darkness in the house. “Dean?” you ask. “I could ask you the same thing.”

******************

“Fuck,” you swear as a pie plate flies at your head. You swing the iron crowbar Dean has thrown to you, hitting the plate, sending it crashing into the wall across the room. 

“Y/N!” Dean tackles you, just as a set of knives fly past where you had been standing, spearing the wall in an ornate pattern.

You groaned, gripping your belly protectively. Dean notices this movement, his forest green eyes move from your hand to meet yours. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you grunt out, moving back to your feet. “What’s taking Sam so long?”

“I don’t know,” Dean says, rising beside you, crowbar in hand. 

You reload your shot gun with rock salt, scanning the room. Suddenly a woman in tattered clothing flies towards you, her garish mouth open as her scream rips through you. You freeze. Without warning you're thrown to the ground, this time with the eldest Winchester landing on top of you. 

Dean tries to move his weight off of you, his muscular body sliding against yours. Your mind quickly flashes back to the last time you saw the sandy haired hunter, the hex, the cure, the……. You stifle a moan as you feel heat starting to pool between your legs.

Biting your lip, you press up against him with the flat of your palms. “We need to get out of here, Dean,” your voice is barely a whisper.

His face is inches from yours, you feel his breath ghost against your lips. Dean swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, his green eyes moving from your Y/E/C ones down to your lips and back. He nods, heaving his body from yours. 

Hauling yourself to your feet, you make long strides to your gun. Grabbing it from the floor, you pump it. You nod at Dean, then motion towards the door. You move quickly, backing up to try to get to the door as fast as possible. Dean's in front of you, the crowbar raised, waiting for another attack. 

You get to the door, trying the knob. It won't turn, won't budge. You drop your gun, grabbing the knob with two hands. You pull again, frantically trying to pull it open. Your fists pounding on the wood, you started to panic. 

“Y/N,” Dean’s voice was behind you. “She’s locked us in.” 

“No,” your voice is strangled, you're on the verge of a panic attack. “No, not now….”

“Y/N.” Dean’s strong hands grip you around your waist, easing you from the door. “Sam will get us out.”

“No,” you struggle against him, trying to get to the door again. “I need….”

“Stop, “ Dean pull you closer to him. “Y/N, you need to stop. We need to _think_.”

You start to relax, your head resting against his solid chest. You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself. He can't find out why you're reacting this way. You had to pull yourself together. The spicy scent of leather, whiskey and shot gun powder start to have a different effect, you feel your core start to ache with need. Biting your lip, you push away from him, steadying yourself. 

You turn back towards him, your eyes cast down. “Yeah, you’re right. ‘M sorry, Dean.”

He tilts his head, seeming unsure what to make of your behavior, but nods. 

“Salt,” you mutter, moving towards the kitchen. “We need to make a salt ring.”

**************************************  
The ghost flames up, in a bright burst, screaming. 

You look at Dean. “Fuck, _finally_. Let’s get out of here.”

He nods, pulling out his cell to let Sam know he was ok, and that you're with him. Tucking his phone away, he steps out of the salt circle. “It’s been awhile, Y/N,” he says, keeping his back turned, tucking his crowbar into his duffel. 

“Four months,” you concur, moving past the salt line. You wait for him to finish before turning towards the door. 

“Wait,” Dean’s voice was soft, almost pleading. “Y/N….”

You sigh, turning back to the eldest Winchester. You kind of knew this conversation would happen if you ever saw the Winchesters again. You had helped Dean out, in the most intimate way possible. You left soon afterwards, not wanting to dwell on it. It was part of your job, you had saved him from a curse. You didn’t need some flowery speech from him. 

“What, Dean?” you meet his gaze.

“I never….I…..” he stutters a bit, his lady’s man reputation faltering. 

“Spit it out, Tiger,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

He's taken aback by your comment. His green eyes grow wide, head tilting. Quickly settling himself he continues. “What happened tonight, Y/N?” 

You didn’t expect this change in topic. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, doing a great fish impression. You gather your wits. “I’m claustrophobic,” you lie. 

Dean’s expression changes, he squints, “No you’re not.” He counters. “I’ve seen you in tighter situations than this and you were fine.”

You sigh, unconsciously your hand moves to your stomach. “Dean, I’d …..I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Y/N,” his eyes on your hand, cradling your belly. “Are you…..are you, pregnant?”

Your eyes grow wide. 

“Is it…..is it….” He stutters. Licking his lips he continues. “Is it mine?”

You slowly nod, closing your eyes. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your head starts to swim. You reach out for something to hold yourself up.

“Y/N,” Dean’s voice seems far away. 

Your body hits the floor, Dean’s voice calling to you is the last thing you hear.

************************* 

You shift, trying to sit up but your head is pounding. With a moan you clutch your head with your hands and fall back onto the pillow. 

“Y/N,” Dean’s voice is quiet. You hear him moving towards you. “How you feelin’?”

You open your eyes, turning your head towards him. “Been better,” you grimace, the pain in your head increasing. 

“Cas is coming,” he says, trying to sound reassuring. “He’s going to be able to help you.”

You give Dean a weak smile. “Thanks, Dean.” Your eyes move around the room, realizing you were in a motel. “How long was I out?”

“A couple hours,” Dean sits on the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t get you to come to, so I carried you out and then brought you here.”

You struggle to sit up, your hand moving instinctively to your belly. At this point you didn’t even care to ask where “here” was. You're just glad you were in a warm bed.

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean reaches out to help you sit up. He brushes your stomach gently with his fingers. “You need to rest.” His eyes avoid yours, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. 

Your eyes move to his, your hand gently covering his and pressing it to the slight bump. “It’s not your fault, Dean. I shouldn’t have been able to get pregnant.”

Dean shifts, his eyes move from yours to look down at your intertwined fingers. “What do you mean?”

You swallow thickly. “I……I wasn’t able to get pregnant. Biologically, I had pretty much a zero chance of conceiving.”

“But, there’s always that chance,” Dean’s voice is shaky. “Nothing is 100%.”

You shake your head. “No, Dean, it’s not. But I was also on medication to stop my periods, and to stop ovulating all together,” you squeeze his fingers. “It shouldn’t have happened. “

Dean’s hand moves, stroking your stomach gently. 

You move your hand to cup the hunter’s cheek, “Dean,” you look in his green eyes. “I don’t think this pregnancy is normal. There’s something really wrong about this.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, your eyes welling with tears. Dean brought his hand up to brush a tear off your cheek.

“We’ll figure something out,” He moves forward, his lips brushing yours. “I promise.”

You pause, looking into his emerald eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you confess. 

Dean cups your cheek, urging you to move forward. His lips meet yours, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. It was different than the kisses you had shared that one time, four months ago. It's soft, warm, and comforting. You return it eagerly, needing something to hold on to. 

You pull Dean to you, pulling him down so his body covers yours. Your hands card into his hair, your lips becoming more demanding.

“Y/N?” Dean pulls back, his eyes searching your face. 

“I need this, Dean,” you murmur. “Please.”

Dean’s eyes search yours a bit longer, his teeth worrying his lips. 

“Please,” you urge, moving to remove your loose tank top. “I need you.”

Dean’s lips crash back into yours, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. His tongue sought entrance to you, making you moan low in your throat. 

As your bodies move in tandem, you start to relax. You knew the Winchesters would help, knew Dean would be there. You will get through this, regardless the outcome of the pregnancy. 

******************


End file.
